


Pain Can Heal

by CrimsonNight14



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fear, Healing, M/M, Male Friendship, Non-Sexual Slavery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Past Abuse, Slavery, Torture, Werewolves, Werewolves as Slaves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonNight14/pseuds/CrimsonNight14
Summary: Pain.Spending the first seventeen years of his life as a slave, pain is all Noah has ever known, but one night, when presented with the opportunity to escape, that could change.In the blink of an eye, Noah could go from being nothing more than a slave who is used and abused however his owner pleases, to being free, something that he never dreamed was possibleBut, even if Noah manages to escape his fifth, and by far most brutal master, that does not mean that he will be safe. Noah must trust no one, because, if someone were to find him, they would instantly realize what he is.Werewolf.After a werewolf killed the president a year before Noah was born, all of the werewolves, who were once considered equals by most humans, were slaughtered or forced to become a slave. All it takes is one look at Noah, for one person to catch a glimpse of the yellow in his eyes, and he will be right back where he started, but, unlike the last time, there will be no hope for escaping the brutal life he has been forced to live thus far.





	1. Chapter 1

I am startled awake as I hear a door slam shut, the all too familiar sound causing me to whimper quietly, terrified of what's to come.

When I hear loud footsteps echo throughout the hall, despite how much pain doing so causes me, I crawl into the corner of the small room that I am kept in, hoping that, by some miracle, _he_ won't be able to find me.

As _his_ steps get closer and closer, I can't keep my breathing from becoming faster, the short, shaky breaths causing my chest to rise and fall rapidly.

Suddenly, the steps stop, the deafening silence causing me to hold my breath in anticipation, hoping with all my heart that _he_ didn't stop outside this room.

When the door opens, the harsh lighting blinding me, I can't keep a sob from escaping, not ready for more pain.

All _he_ does is laugh as _he_ pulls me to my feet by yanking roughly on my leash, choking me in the process.

While still trying to adjust to the brightness of the room, I stumble after _him_ , knowing that, even though it is extremely difficult to do so, I have to keep walking behind _him_.

After several minutes that pass by like hours, we reach whatever room _he_ has decided to torture me in this time.

The room is dimly lit, allowing me to see that most of the small room is taken up by a metal table with leather straps. Besides the table, there is a black plastic chair and a small metal cart beside the table, filled with an assortment of sharp tools, some of which have blood on them from their last usage.

Seeing the blood causes me to shiver in fear, knowing that my blood will soon be on them too.

I don't struggle to get away, just let _him_ lead me to the table, having realized long ago that fighting back only makes the pain worse.

 _He_ pushes me into the table, causing my chin to slam against it as I fall, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth just seconds later.

Before _he_ can do anything else to me, I stand up and lay down on the table, placing my hands and legs near the restraints, hoping that my obedience will make _him_ not want to hurt me as badly as whatever _he_ might have planned.

Once a leather strap has encased my wrists, ankles, head, and chest, _he_ says with a laugh, "I will be right back. Don't go anywhere, Pet."

As I hear _him_ start to walk away, I can't help but release a soft sigh of relief, thankful that I will be free from whatever pain _he_ has planned for a little while longer.

Suddenly, I start to feel a strange tingling sensation, it first appearing in my head then spreading throughout my entire body until it reaches my feet.

After a few more seconds of that feeling, a sharp pain enters my head.

As the pain seems to worsen, I bite down on my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, adding to the pool of blood in my mouth as I try my best to keep from screaming.

Just seconds later, I am surprised to hear what sounds like tearing flesh, followed by the pain in my head fading away, it being replaced by extra weight atop my head.

Before I can wonder why my head feels heavier or why my hearing seems sharper, I feel my canines grow, sinking deeper into the flesh of my bottom lip, causing me to release my bleeding lip immediately, now realizing what is happening.

I am shifting into a werewolf.

Just seconds later, the sound of the leather straps, along with the collar around my neck, snapping echoes throughout the room. Now that I am a werewolf, it will take much more than those to keep me under control.

Gingerly, I jump down from the table and onto the floor, knowing that, despite how powerful I feel at the moment, I am still hurt badly.

I can't believe this is happening! I actually might be able to escape!

Unlike the other werewolves here, I was not injected with a serum that makes it impossible to shift, due to the fact that I cannot control when I shift. Occasionally, it just happens. One minute I am normal, then the tingling starts and I turn into an animal that I can't control. The other three times I shifted, once the shift happened, I lost all control, the rational part of my mind blacking out to find that, once I was back in my human form, I was covered in the blood of humans that I don't remember killing.

When I hear loud footsteps begin echoing throughout the hall, _him_ starting to get closer and closer with every heavy thump that causes my breathing to hitch, too scared to move, too scared to breathe, I just stand here, paralyzed by the familiar fear, all the power I felt moments ago now gone, leaving me a fearful and trembling mess.

As if _he_ can sense my fear, _he_ laughs wickedly, the all too familiar sound causing me to growl, my fear being replaced by pure hatred.

Just like the past times I have shifted, I know that I will not be able to shift back without getting more blood on my hands, but, unlike all the other times, I know that I am doing the right thing. After all the pain _he_ has caused me and countless others, _he_ deserves to die a slow, agonizing death.

In less than a minute, the door slams open, my owner walking inside with that twisted smile on _his_ face.

Just seconds later, that smile is gone, replaced by a high pitched scream as _he_ notices me.

Quickly, _he_ backs away from me, _his_ fear causing _him_ to trip and fall to the floor, making it much easier for me to end _his_ reign of terror.

To make _him_ feel a fraction of the fear _he_ has caused many, I growl in what I hope is a menacing way as I slowly start to close in on _him_.

Once I am within reach, I lunge at _him_ , trapping _him_ beneath me as I land on top of _him_.

Unable to move anything other than _his_ right hand, _he_ makes a pitiful escape attempt by trying to reach for the knife in _his_ pocket.

Even though I know that _he_ will not be able to reach the knife, I bite _his_ hand, causing _him_ to scream in agony.

Hearing _him_ scream causes me to bite down much harder, wanting _him_ to suffer for what _he_ has put me through these past seven years.

I don't release _his_ hand until I feel _his_ bones crack beneath my jaw.

When the bones in _his_ hand break, _he_ howls in pain, the sound of _him_ in pain causing me to bite down on _his_ forearm, wanting to draw out _his_ suffering for as long as I can.

After a full minute of just listening to _him_ scream in agony, I release _his_ arm, knowing that, if I spend much more time here, I might be discovered before I can escape.

With tears streaming down _his_ cheeks from the pain of _his_ mangled hand and bloody arm, _he_ says with hatred in his tone, "If you think that killing me is going to solve all of your problems, you are even stupider than I thought. No one will ever accept you. No matter what you do, you will always have a master to do as they please with you. Without them you are nothing. Just an animal who deserves to be slaughtered. You are and always will be NOTHING! NOTH-"

Before _he_ can finish, unable to take any more of _his_ hurtful words, especially since I know that _he_ only speaks the truth, I bite down on _his_ throat as hard as I can.

As hold tightly to _his_ throat, I watch _him_ struggle beneath me, thrashing wildly to try to get away from me, but, even in my weakened state, _he_ is no match for me.

About ten seconds later, I watch the light leave _his_ eyes, knowing that _he_ deserved to suffer much longer, but that this will have to do.

I release _his_ throat, feeling satisfied as I watch blood start to gush from the bite marks on _his_ neck, just like the ones on _his_ arm and hand.

Not wanting to waste any more precious time, I run toward the small window and jump through it, ignoring that glass that cuts into my skin as it shatters.

As I am soaring through the air, completely weightless for several seconds, for the first time in my life, I realize what freedom is.

Sadly, just seconds later, as my body collides hard with the ground, that newfound sense of freedom is taken away from me, it being replaced by pain as I hear a sickening snap in my leg that causes me to howl in pain.

Despite the pain in my right hind leg, I slowly start to move, knowing that someone could notice my disappearance at any second.

I am almost standing when fire rips mercilessly through my leg, the pain causing my vision to darken.

As I try to blink away the many dark gray spots in my vision, I hear a loud bang, almost like gunshot, ring in my ears.

Seconds later, when I feel a sharp pain in my lower back, I realize that what I heard was indeed a gunshot.

It takes a few seconds for the pain of the bullet tearing through my flesh to register, but once it does, I howl in agony as one question replays in my mind over and over again.

Why me?

Not allowing myself to wallow in all my pain and self-pity, I push those aside and run into the forest that lies in front of me, knowing that, if I stay here much longer, I will get shot again, and, unlike the last time, I know that they will go for the kill.

With each step I take, all it does is cause me more pain. The pain makes it feel like my whole body is on fire, slowly melting away as I am unable to do anything but try to run away from the incessantly burning fire. Despite knowing that I will not be able to outrun the fire, I continue to run, hoping that, by some miracle, the fire won't reach me, that these men won't kill me or, even worse, bring me back there, back to the pain, the incessantly burning fire.

After a few minutes of running, right as the pain starts causing me to slow greatly, I hear footsteps behind me, the dreadful sound of their footsteps telling me that I need to go even faster, but my body seems to have other ideas.

When the tingling starts to spread through my body, tears rush to my eyes. Despite knowing how horrible this is going to be, the thought alone is unable to prepare me for the pain.

Unlike before, the shift back happens almost instantly, due to the fact that I am almost always in human form, but because of that, it doesn't give me anytime to adjust to the pain that shifting causes.

I scream in unadulterated agony as the pain of shifting hits me, but it is at least a thousand times worse because of my broken leg, shifting causing the shattered bone to bend and stretch against its will. Just when I think that the pain can't get any worse, pain rips through my back, shifting forcing the skin around my back to stretch, moving the bullet deeper into my body.

As my screaming turns into sobbing, I realize that this is the end.

This is how I die.

After a few minutes of simply crying as I try my best to breathe through the pain, I force myself to stand, knowing that I need to get some more distance between myself and the men.

When I am almost to my feet, the pain in my broken leg causes me to fall, another bloodcurdling scream ripping through my throat, turning it raw, but even that new pain can't keep the screaming at bay.

Once the scream dies out, while beginning to sob, I just lay in the dirt, all hope beginning to fade away.

Seconds later, when I hear a set of footsteps start to approach me, I just cry harder, knowing that I failed. This was my one chance to escape, and I blew it.

I failed.

As the footsteps get closer, despite knowing how useless it is, I beg through my tears, "Please, don't hurt me."

When the person sounds like they are only a few feet away from me, my eyes start to droop closed, it becoming harder and harder to keep them open.

"Please," I beg between sobs once the footsteps stop, the person sounding like they are now right beside me.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch, trying to prepare myself for this person to laugh at my failed attempt to escape.

Instead of laughter, I hear a man I don't recognize whisper softly, "It's okay, you're safe now."

"What?" I ask just as quietly as he had spoken, knowing that I must have misheard him.

"Whoever hurt you like this isn't going to anymore. I'm taking you back to my house to patch you up. You will be safe there," the man whispers as he carefully scoops me up in his arms, and, even though being carried by this stranger is extremely awkward and painful, I don't resist, just thankful that he isn't forcing me to walk on my own, not intentionally hurting me, and promising to keep me safe.

Once again, I start to cry, but this time for a completely different reason.

Safe.

Is it possible? Could I actually be safe for once in my life? It seems far too good to be true, but what if it isn't?

What if he actually will keep me safe?

"Thanks," I mumble, my tongue feeling heavy despite feeling like my head is growing lighter and lighter with each step he takes.

If he says anything in response, I don't hear it, just seconds later falling unconscious, the pain finally becoming too much for me.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Unknown pov

I bolt upright in bed as a loud scream shatters the silence of the night, the sound instantly putting me on high alert.

Quickly, but cautiously, I leave the warmth of my bed and approach the window.

Slowly, I draw back the dark gray curtains, my mind thinking up millions of possibilities of what horrible thing out there caused that man to scream.

Instead of seeing a frightening creature like my mind expects to, all I see is the vastness of trees that stretch as far as my eye can see, causing me to realize that, if I want to help this man, I am will have to go much farther than I originally thought.

For several seconds, I just stare out the window, hoping that, somewhere in the darkness, I will find a sign as to what I should do.

The sign comes just seconds later when I hear the man scream again, this time sounding like he is in even more pain than he was moments ago.

Knowing that I have to help him, I walk toward the door, picking my black hoodie up off the floor in the process.

Once my hoodie is on, before I can leave without any way to defend myself, I walk back over to my bed and reach under my pillow, pulling out my pocket knife in hopes that that will be enough to keep me safe.

Now that I have a weapon, no matter how ineffective it may be, I tiptoe downstairs, hoping that I don't wake up my mom, knowing that she would never approve of me going out this late at night, especially since I could be putting myself in danger by doing so.

While clutching the pocket knife in a white-knuckled grip, I slowly open the door, a part of me expecting someone to be standing there, ready to hurt me, just like they did to that man.

I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief when I see that nothing other than the darkness of the night is waiting for me.

While trying to keep my breathing at a steady pace, I approach the tall redwood tress that are so dark that they seem to be the same color as the shadows they cast.

I quicken my pace, this new, and slightly ominous, side of the trees that I have spent nearly my entire life surrounded by making me feel extremely uneasy.

As I continue to walk through the silent trees, a feeling of dread starts to mingle with the ever present uneasiness, the oppressive silence making me feel more anxious than I had before.

Suddenly, the man screams in agony once again, the loudness of his scream, telling me that I am much closer than I thought I was, causing me to jump as I clutch the knife even tighter, my hand starting to hurt from gripping it so hard.

Faintly, I hear what sounds like sobbing, the sound of his pain leading me closer to him.

After going about ten feet, the sobs stop, causing me to pause and listen carefully, trying to locate him using only my hearing.

Why didn't I think to bring a flashlight?

I am ripped from my thoughts by a blood-curdling scream, the sound, once again, causing me to jump as my heart thumps wildly in my chest.

While feeling like I might be sick, I follow the sound of his screaming, hoping that, even though I know how unlikely it is, he isn't hurt too badly.

After several more seconds, his scream turns into sobbing once again, but this time it is much louder, telling me that I am extremely close.

"Please, don't hurt me," the man whispers, his strained voice both from pain and trying to hold back tears startling me despite his quietness.

Once he finishes speaking, he goes back to crying, the closeness of the sound causing me to realize that I am only a few feet away from him.

Laying in the dirt, I see the outline of the man, his body shaking from the sobs that endlessly seem to course through him.

Hesitantly, I approach the man, not wanting to scare him.

Once I reach the man, as I kneel down beside him, he begs, "Please," his voice filled with both pain and desperation.

Not knowing how to comfort the man, I gently place my hand on his shoulder, instantly feeling bad when he flinches.

After failing to comfort him once, hoping that I will do better this time, I whisper, "It's okay, you're safe now."

"What?" He asks just as quietly as I had spoken, confusion now laced in his pain-filled voice.

"Whoever hurt you like this isn't going to anymore. I'm taking you back to my house to patch you up. You will be safe there," I whisper as I carefully pick up the man, hoping that doing so won't hurt him.

When the man starts to cry again, I begin to panic, worried that I hurt him when I picked him up.

I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding when the man mumbles, "Thanks," feeling very relieved now that I know that I didn't hurt him any more than he already has been.

Just seconds later, he grows heavier in my arms, his body now limp, allowing me to walk faster since I don't have to worry about causing him more pain.

After several minutes of quickly walking through the forest, I reach my house.

Carefully, I lay the man down on the ground so that I can unlock the front door, not wanting to risk hurting him by not setting him down.

Once I pick him up again, I carry him up the stairs, trying to be as silent as I possibly can, hoping that I don't wake up my mom.

A minute later, once I reach my room with the door closed safely behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful to did not wake her up, knowing that trying to explain why I brought a wounded man into the house would not go well.

Immediately, I bring him into the bathroom and lay him down on the floor, afterward grabbing the first aid kit and a washcloth.

After wetting the washcloth with warm water, I kneel beside the man and use the washcloth to start to clean his face.

Now that I have some light, I can see how hurt the man really is. His right leg is broken, it bent awkwardly to right just below his knees, causing me to blanch, feeling like I am going to throw up.

While avoiding looking at his leg anymore, I take in the rest of his appearance. The man looks to be around my age, probably in his late teens, but it is hard to tell underneath the many layers of dirt that cover his ghostly pale skin. His tan T-shirt and shorts are torn to shreds, seeming like they are being held together by just a few more pieces of thread that have not yet decayed. His face is very thin, far too thin, his hollow cheeks making me question when the last time he ate was. Assuming that he is extremely malnourished, but wanting a confirmation, I carefully move him so that he is sitting up.

When I pull my hand away from his back, it is now slick with blood, causing me to curse.

Quickly, I remove what is left of his shirt to find that his back is bleeding profusely from what looks like a bullet wound.

Knowing that I have to remove the bullet, I lay the man down on his stomach, giving me access to his back.

Now that he is laying down, I jump to my feet and wash away the blood, afterward running into my bedroom.

I approach my desk and snatch the role of duct tape off it, not wanting to risk the man waking up my mom.

As hurriedly as before, I run into the bathroom and kneel beside the man, carefully moving his head to the side so that I can put the tape over his mouth. I place it over his mouth and gently smooth out the tape, hoping that that will be enough to keep him from making any noise.

Next, not wanting him to hurt me or try to get away, I grab his arms and hold them above his head, afterward taping his wrists together.

Once he is secure, I put down the tape and open up the first aid kit, pulling out the necessary tools to help him.

After taking in a deep breath, I straddle the man, scissors in one hand while the other hand stretches the skin around the bullet wound, hoping that doing so isn't causing him too much pain.

While, for the first time in my life, being grateful that my mom used to be a medic in the army who showed me a few tricks, such as removing a bullet, I insert the scissors into the opening, trying hard not to throw up as I am forced to look into the wound for the bullet.

After several seconds of searching for the bullet, I find it.

As I slowly remove the bullet, the man jumps to life beneath me, a muffled scream escaping his lips.

Instead of comforting him like I want to, I continue to free the bullet from his skin, knowing that removing it is the most important thing to do.

Finally, the bullet comes out, covered in blood and pink flesh, making me gag as bile rises in my throat.

After putting the bullet into a paper towel, I tightly wrap his back in gauze, hoping that that will be enough to stop the bleeding, but I doubt it.

By now the man is no longer screaming, instead, he is sobbing, his body shaking underneath me.

"I'm sorry. I wish that I could have removed the bullet without hurting you, but my knowledge in the medical field is limited at best. I know that it doesn't seem like it, but I don't want to hurt you," I whisper as I carefully help the man sit up, allowing him to lean against me for support as I hope that he will believe me.

He sobs against me, causing me to wrap my arms around him in a hug, wishing that I could take away his pain.

"If I take off the tape, do you promise that you won't scream?" I ask after a few seconds of hesitation, wanting him to be able to talk, but not wanting my mom to find him if he decides to scream.

Faintly, I feel him nod his head 'yes' against my chest, causing me to slowly pull the tape from his mouth, trying hard to not hurt him anymore than I already have.

"Th-thank y-you," the man whispers in a shaky, pain-filled voice.

"You don't have to thank me, especially after the way I hurt you," I whisper as scoot back a few feet, taking him with me.

Now that I no longer have to sit behind him since the sink is there to support him, I move so that I am kneeling beside his leg, wondering what I should do about it.

I slowly begin to wrap his leg, knowing that this won't help it heal, but hopefully, it will be better than nothing.

Once his leg is wrapped, I look at his face to see that his eyes are shut tightly and his face is creased in pain.

"I'm sorry. I wish that I had something to give you to help with the pain," I whisper as I continue to look at the man, feeling bad that I put him through this much pain.

Slowly, the man opens his left eye, the other eye seeming too swollen to open.

It takes a few seconds of looking him in the eye to notice what color they are, but once I see the golden yellow surrounding his pupil, I wish that I hadn't.

Instantly terrified of him, I quickly stand up and back away, my hands raised in surrender.

I continue to back up until I press against something solid, the wall behind me trapping me in here with him.

As my breathing becomes even more rapid, I just stare at his eye, trying to find some proof that he isn't what I think he is.

Werewolf.

That single word nearly sends me into a panic attack, my breathing getting even faster as my body starts to tremble.

It takes a few more panic-filled seconds to realize that I shouldn't be afraid of him, knowing that, in his weakened state, along with the fact that his hands are tied, he won't be able to hurt me.

As my fear turns into a deep hatred, I quickly approach him, my hands forming into fists.

"Please, don't hurt me," he whispers when I am only a few feet away, his plea causing me to stop immediately, unsure of what I should do now.

"You're a slave, aren't you?" I ask after a few seconds of hesitation, not sure of where this conversation may go, but my lack of knowing what else to do forcing me to ask.

Ever so slightly, he nods his head 'yes'.

"Did you escape?" I ask despite knowing that I am right, certian that no one would free him.

Just like before, he barely nods his head 'yes'.

"Did you know that, by law, I am not only encouraged, but required to return you to your owner?" I ask, wanting to make it apparent that I know exactly what I should do with him, even though I won't.

"Please, I-I'll do anything you want, but I'm begging you, don't take me back there," He pleads, his words shocking me.

"Anything?" I ask, finding it hard to believe that he would actually do anything I want just to keep from going back there. I know that he must have been treated poorly, but how bad could it have been if he is willing to do absolutely anything in exchange for me not taking him back?

After a few seconds of just watching me warily, he nods his head 'yes'.

A smirk starts to form as I begin thinking of doing something that will make it apparent that, even though I could get away with doing nearly anything to him, I don't want to hurt him.

With my smirk still in place, I close the distance between us, taking out my knife in the process.

Next, I use the knife to cut his shorts across the entire length of it, causing the fabric to fall on both sides of his legs, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Now that he is almost completely exposed, my smirk deepens, knowing that, even though I hate to do so, I have to keep up this act.

Hesitantly, I look at his face to see that his eyes are shut tightly, tears streaming down his face.

Seeing how I am hurting him almost makes me stop, but I convince myself to keep up this act just a little longer, wanting this to leave a lasting impression.

While being careful to not hurt his leg, I crawl on top of him, sitting so that I am on his thighs, my legs wrapped around his back.

When he whimpers, even though I tell myself that I only have to keep this up a little longer, I can't.

I pick the washcloth up off the floor, deciding to put an end to this.

Once I press the cold, wet washcloth against his chest, his eye flies open and he looks up at me, shock and confusion on his face.

"You and I both know what I could do to you without any consequences. I could hurt you in so many ways, but you don't deserve to suffer like that, especially over something that happened before you were even born. The werewolf who killed Adam, he deserved to suffer, but not every werewolf. Not you. I could do so many things to you, but I won't. I don't want to hurt you," I say with a small smile as I move so that I am sitting beside him instead of being in the awkward position that I was in before.

Afterward, I continue to clean him, leaving him there with his mouth hanging open in shock.

"Thank you," he whispers after a few more seconds of him just sitting there in shock.

With a growing smile, I look at his face to see that he is now crying.

After moving the washcloth to my left hand, I use the thumb of my right hand to gently brush the tears from his cheeks.

Surprisingly, instead of flinching or trying to pull away from me, he leans into my touch, causing me to cup his cheek.

"There's no need to cry now, you're safe here," I whisper after a minute of staying like this, hoping that, between holding him this way and my words, he will feel safe.

All he does is hum softly in response as his eye closes.

"If you are tired, you can sleep. Once I finish cleaning you up, I am also going to go to bed, so don't feel like you have to stay awake," I say nervously, a little worried that he won't feel safe enough to fall asleep.

He doesn't respond, instead, he just leans into my touch even more, using my hand to support his head.

A few seconds later, when his head grows extremely heavy in my hand, I realize that he is asleep already.

Quickly, I finish cleaning him, starting to feel tired after a long day at school.

Five minutes later, once I have finished cleaning him, I carefully pick him up, trying my best not to hurt him.

After standing up, I walk into my bedroom and approach the closet, not knowing where else to put him.

I use my foot to push open the closet door and, once I step inside, am thankful that I listened to my mom when she asked me to clean it yesterday.

Just as carefully as I had picked him up, I lay him on the carpet, wishing that he could sleep somewhere softer, like the top bunk of my bed, but knowing that I can't trust him enough for that.

Now that he is laying on his side in the corner of my closet, I almost leave him like this, but decide against it, knowing that, since he is almost naked, he will get cold easily.

I step out of the closest and walk back into the bathroom, deciding that I should tape his mouth once again.

I grab both the roll of duct tape and what is left of his clothes, pocketing the tape before throwing away the clothes.

Now that I have the tape, I exit the bathroom and walk over to my bed, grabbing my dark blue and black checkered blanket.

Now that I have both items, I walk back over to my closet and kneel beside him pull off a large piece of tape as I do so.

I can't help but wince as the loud, and extremely obnoxious, sound of the tape tearing echoes throughout my closet, the sound seeming to bounce off the walls a thousand times before fading away.

While feeling a little guilty, I press the tape against his mouth once again, needing to make sure that he doesn't wake up my mom.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper as I wrap the blanket around him, knowing that this kind gesture could never make up for the pain that I have caused him.

Slowly, while feeling a little sick to my stomach, I stand up and approach the door.

Before I can leave, I turn around and look at the man one last time, hoping that he will be okay in here by myself.

Knowing that staying in there, watching him while he sleeps, to make sure that he will be okay is extremely weird, I force myself to turn my back to him and walk out of the closet, closing the door behind me.

Since there is no lock on the door, I walk toward my desk and pick up the uncomfortable, white plastic chair.

Hoping that, even though it is very flimsy, it will keep him from being able to escape, I push the back of the chair underneath the doorknob.

Now that he is secure, I walk over to my bed, feeling absolutely drained from an extremely long day of school and being woken up in the middle of the night.

After taking out my pocket knife and placing it underneath my pillow, I lay down with a yawn.

Finally giving into my exhaustion, in only a matter of seconds, I am asleep, my last thought being that I hope that he will be okay once I wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm soooo sorry that you had to wait such a long time for this chapter, finals week(s) made it impossible to update at all during the past month, but I'm back now! I plan on updating at the beginning of each week, so hopefully that will work out. Even though it's a day late, Merrry Christmas everybody! Hope that you all had a great Christmas! Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you next week in chapter 3. Bye :D


	3. Chapter 3

Unknown pov

Sleepily, I open my eyes and look at my alarm clock to see that the time is only three, two hours before I have to wake up.

While wishing that I was still asleep, I close my eyes.

They remain closed for only a second, instantly flying open as I remember the man in my closet.

No longer feeling the slightest bit tired, I jump out of bed and rush over to the closet, hoping that he is okay.

After moving the chair out from underneath the doorknob, not wanting to scare him, I slowly open the door.

Right where I left him, in the farthest corner of the closet, lays the man, breathing shallowly, making me worried.

Hesitantly, I approach him, noticing that, as I get closer, the skin that isn't covered by my blanket is pale and shiny from a sheen layer of sweat.

Now that I have reached the middle of the closet, I pull the cord to the ceiling light, instantly regretting it when I notice that my blanket seems much darker than it should be, making me worried. 

With even more hesitation than before, I continue walking toward the man, afraid to see what covers my blanket.

Barely grabbing the top corner of the blanket, I pull it off him and, once I see that his back is bleeding profusely, having bled through the bandage wrap long ago, I drop the blanket with a startled cry.

Knowing that he needs help that I can't give him, I run from my closet and back into my room, then out into the hall.

Urgently, I knock on the door next to mine, feeling a little guilty for waking up my mom, but knowing that, if I don't, he will die.

"Come in, Tyler," my mom says tiredly, making me feel even guiltier, but I know that I have to do this.

"Mom, I need your help, there's a medical emergency," I say quickly as I open the door and step into my mom's room.

"How bad?" my mom asks in a worry-filled tone.

Her bed creaks as she sits up, the old bedframe protesting the movement.

"I think stitches," I say after a few seconds of thinking, guessing that, in order to keep his back wound from causing him to bleed out, he will need stitches.

"What did you do to yourself?!" my mom asks as she starts to walk into the bathroom to get supplies, her voice now filled with both shock and fear.

"It's not me whose hurt," I whisper, hoping that she won't hate me for bringing not only a stranger, but a werewolf at that, into our house.

"What are you talking about?" my mom asks slowly, seeming like she is trying extremely hard to not accuse me of doing something that I shouldn't have.

"I woke up a couple hours ago when I heard a man screaming. I knew that he needed help, so I started to look for him. Not far from here I found the man, who was badly injured, and brought him home. I managed to remove the bullet that got lodged in his back, but didn't know how to stop the bleeding. I just wrapped it up tightly and thought that it would be fine, but when I went to check on him just now, I found him covered in blood. Can you help him?" I say hurriedly, my nervousness once again causing my speech to quicken.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? We could have brought him to the hospital," my mom says as she exits her bedroom, supplies in hand, leaving me no choice but to follow her despite how I would love to avoid this conversation.

"They wouldn't have helped him," I whisper, deciding that it would be better to take this approach as opposed to simply saying that he is a werewolf.

She stops in her tracks and asks in a whisper, "Why wouldn't they be willing to help him?"

Even though we both know the answer, even quieter than her, I whisper, "He's a werewolf."

"You brought a werewolf into the house?!" my mom asks in a disbelieving yell as she turns around and gives me one of her glares that always make me cave, but not this time.

Even though it is so difficult to look into those angry blue eyes of hers, in my most convincing tone, I say, "Mom, if I didn't help him, he would have died. He may not be the same as we are, but that doesn't mean that he has to die. Ever since I was little, you taught me to help those in need. You never said not to help werewolves. When I first found him, I didn't realize that he was a werewolf, but even though I know now, that doesn't mean that I don't want to help him. Please, help him, I don't want him to die."

After releasing a heavy sigh, my mom asks, "Where is he?"

"In my closet," I say with a large smile, so glad that, despite what he is, she is willing to help him.

"Tyler?" my mom asks once we reach my room.

"Yeah?" I ask after a few seconds of hesitation, knowing that nothing good can come from this.

"I'm proud of you. Instead of leaving him to die like most people would, you want to help him. I'm glad that most of the population's view on werewolves hasn't affected you," she says, her praise causing me to smile widely.

"Thanks, Mom," I say as I give her a hug, being careful not to knock anything out of her hands as I do so.

After only a few seconds of hugging her, I pull away, afraid that he might not make it much longer.

Without another word, I walk toward my closet, trying to prepare myself for the horrid sight that I am going to see again.

I purosely look at the corner of the room opposite of where he is, too afraid to look at him in case it is too late.

"You poor thing," my mom whsipers as I hear her walk toward him, causing me to look at him.

Breathing even shallower than he was before and looking a little paler, the man lays right where I left him.

"Why does he have hardly any clothes on?" My mom asks once she kneels beside the man.

The silent accusation in her tone quickly causes me to say, "It's not like that! The clothes I found him in, if they could even be considered clothes, were nothing more than a few tattered pieces of fabric kept together by some string. I took them off so that I could give him some of my clothes, but then I realized that, in order to put on the shirt, I wold have to free his hands, something that I don't feel comfortable doing yet, and that I couldn't put on pants without risking hurting his broken leg."

"His leg is broken too?" She asks, seeming pleased with my answer enough to let the uncomfortable subject drop, something that I am very grateful for.

"Yeah. I... I wanted to help fix it, but I didn't know what to do, so I kinda just wrapped it up in case that somehow helped," I whisper, feeling ashamed for not helping him more.

"After I finish stitching up his back, I'll see if I can do anything for his leg," my mom says, causing me to realize that she has already started to stitch his back wound.

"Do you think he can feel that?" I ask after a few seconds of hesitation, afraid to know how much pain he might be in right now.

Before my mom can respond, the man comes to life beside her, a muffled scream escaping his lips as he starts thrashing to get away.

Quickly, I rush over there help my mom hold down the man, not wanting him to rip out the stitches.

I sit beside his head and grab his arms, holding them above his head to help limit his movement.

Between my mom sitting on his lower back and me holding his arms in place, he is no longer able to struggle.

After one last, pitiful, attempt at escpaing our hold, he gives up.

When my mom continues stitching up his wound, he begins to sob, making me wish that we had something to give him for the pain.

Wanting to comfort him, I use my free hand to gently brush my fingers across his cheek, wiping away his tears in the process.

With tears in his hopeful eye, the other eye still seeming too swollen open, the man looks up at me, seeming to beg me to help him.

"I'm sorry, but, if we don't do this, you will die. I... I don't want you to die," I whisper as I push his long, dark brown-colored bangs from his forehead.

My mom must have done a particularly painful stitch because he starts screaming again, making me feel bad for him.

When his screaming turns into sobbing again, I ask my mom, "Can we move him so that his head is in my lap? I think it might give him a little more comfort."

"I'm almost done, just let me finish," my mom says shortly, too deep in concentration to let me do as I want.

With a sigh, I begin to gently comb my fingers through his long hair, hoping that this might help ease his pain a little.

After a short amount of time spent running my fingers through his hair, I look down at him to see that he has his eyes closed, looking a bit more relaxed.

"I wish that I could do more than this to help you," I whisper, feeling guilty that he is in so much pain.

Slowly, he opens his eye to look up at me, it filled with an emotion that I cannot identify.

After a few seconds of just looking each other in the eyes, the moment is ruined when my mom talking causes him to look away.

"Time to check out this leg," she says as she gets off him.

Once again he looks up at me, this time seeming like he is asking me something with his eye.

Unsure of what he is asking, but assuming that it can't be anything bad, I nod my head 'yes'.

Slowly, he moves so that he is laying on his side instead of his stomach, making me wonder what I just agreed to him doing.

I don't get a chance to find out because my mom yells, "Stay still!

With a muffled whimper, sounding absolutely terrified, he starts to shake from fear.

"Mom, be gentle with him, he's been through a lot," I say when she opens her mouth to yell again.

"I'm just trying to help him, but he's making things difficult," my mom says, frustration evident in her tone.

"He's not trying to make things difficult! Look at him, he's absolutely terrified," I say in a slightly raised voice, becoming frustrated for what little care my mom is showing him, something that is so unlike her.

"I'm done here. You fix his leg if you so much about him," my mom says as she stands up and storms out of the room, leaving me alone with the man who is still shaking violently from fear.

"Hey, it's okay. She's gone now," I whisper as I grab his arms with both of my hands, using them to help him sit up.

Now that he is sitting up, I release his arms, instead wrapping my arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

Only when I have him wrapped in a hug does his shaking start to lessen, making me relieved.

"That's it. You're okay now," I whisper when his hands grab my arm tightly, seeming like he is afraid to let go of me.

After another minute of him holding onto me for dear life, his grip starts to become painful, causing me to say, "Hey, can you let go now? You're starting to hurt my arm."

Immediatly, he lets go of my arm, thinking of the bruises that I know will be on my arm tomorrow causing me to wince.

Suddenly, the man rushes out of my arms and hurries across the room.

He only gets a few feet before his broken leg causes him to fall with a muffled scream, but that doesn't stop him from trying to get away from me.

Instead of walking, he drags himself toward the opposite side of the room, seeing him like this breaking my heart.

Knowing that I have to put a stop to this, I walk toward him and only stop when I am in front of him, making it so that he has no where to go.

He must know it too because he whines before starting to sob.

Carefully, I pick him up and carry him to the nearest wall.

Once we reach the wall, I sit him down so that his back is against it.

Immediatly, he curls in on himself, trying to make himself as small as he possibly can.

It takes a few seconds of watching his small form shake as he sobs to realize that he is afraid of being punished for hurting me.

"Look at me," I command quietly and gently, hoping that being nice about this won't make him not want to obey.

Quickly, he obeys, raising him head to look at me, but his eyes go no higher than my throat. 

I reach my hand out to touch his face, Immediatly causing him to close his eye and become tense, seeming like he is expecting a blow.

Instead of hitting him, I use my hand to gently cup the side of his face.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he opens his eye again and looks at me, this time in the eyes.

"Yesterday, I told you that I didn't want to hurt you. I meant what I said," I say quietly.

My words don't have the effect I was hoping for, instead causing him to shake his head 'no' repeatedly.

Knowing that he must have something to say, I carefully remove the tape.

"This... this is wrong. Master, I hurt you. I-I deserve to be... killed. If you don't want to kill me, I at least deserve to be punished," the man whispers as he looks down at the floor.

"Do you want to be punished?" I ask, causing him to lift his head to look at me in shock before lowering it a few seconds later.

"I deserve to be punished, Master," he whispers, not answering my question.

"But do you want to be punished," I repeat again, hoping that this time he will understand what I am asking.

"No, Master," the man whispers, making me smile triumphantly.

"I'm not going to punish you then," I say the second he responded.

"But, Master-" the man tries to protest, but I cut him off before he can get very far.

"I am offering you a reprieve that I doubt you have ever gotten before. Besides, little harm was done. You didn't realize that you were hurting me, but the second you did, you stopped. Bruises are nothing new to me, so I don't mind having a few more," I say firmly, but not harshly, wanting to make it clear that this is not up for debate without scaring him.

"Thank you, Master," he says as he looks me in the eyes, allowing me to see that his eye is glossy from trying to hold back tears.

"Sleep well," I say with a smile as I stand up and walk out of the closet, hoping that he will be okay this.

Before closing the door, I take one last look at the man to see him shiver.

Knowing that I can't just leave him there to freeze, I walk over to my bed and pull off my only blanket.

With the black, fuzzy blanket in hand, I walk back to the closet.

As I approach him, he lifts his head and looks at me with eyes wide in terror.

"It's okay, I just brought you a blanket since you seemed cold," I say in a soothing tone as I kneel beside him.

I hand him the blanket, but he doesn't take it, causing me to say, "If you want to lay down and get comfortable, at least as comfortable as you can be on the floor, I can put the blanket on you afterward."

For a few seconds he just watches me warily, but then he lays down.

With a small smile, I drape the blanket over his body.

"See you tomorrow," I say as I walk away from him, hoping that he is going to be okay now.

Quickly, after closing the closet door and placing the chair underneath the knob, I approach my bed, feeling so tired.

Once I reach my bed, I flop down on it and fall asleep in only seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone (even though I'm a day late)! I hope you guys had a nice New Year! I don't really know what else to say, so I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you next week in Chapter 4, which I am super excited for. Bye :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, time for the first trigger warning of the story... *sigh* I was hoping to avoid doing this, but I guess it's happening. This chapter mentions rape, and while there is no graphic imagery of it, (it's actually just a sentence talking about past rape) I feel like it is important to warn you all, especially since I didn't include rape/non-con in the archive warnings (because it is something that will only come up once more after this unless anything changes). With that being said, I hope that you enjoy this chapter, it's probably my favorite so far!

Noah's pov

Slowly, I open my right eye, expecting the left eye to still be too swollen to open even the slightest bit, but it opens with little resistance, making me wonder how long it has been since my last beating if it has already healed.

Once I get over the excitement of being able to open both eyes, I realize that I can't see anything, making me panic.

Most of the time, due to my heightened senses both in human and werewolf form, I can at least make out the outline of most objects, but now, all I see is darkness.

A few seconds later, as I am still trying in vain to catch a glimpse of my surroundings, I am hit with a jolt of agonizing pain that rips through my back, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut tightly, a pathetic whimper that is slightly muffled escaping as I do so.

It takes a few seconds, but once my brain processes the fact that my whimper was muffled, my body turns cold, fear chilling me to the bone.

Why can't I speak?

Where am I?

Why can't I remember what happened?

In blind panic, I begin trying to move my arms and legs, only to find that doing so is impossible, or causes me large amounts of pain.

Instead of the immense pain in my leg deterring me from trying to escape, it keeps me going, knowing that, unless I want to experience even more pain, I have to escape.

My panic intensifies when I remember what happened to me one of the last times I was restrained.

Please, don't let that happen to me again. I can't take that kind of pain, that kind of humiliation again.

Before the memories of _him_ inside me, filling me to the brim despite my desperate pleas for _him_ not to, can flood my mind, I hear a door slam against a wall, the sound causing me to whimper as I try to make myself as small as I can, hoping that, just this once, _he_ will show me some mercy.

As I hear _his_ footsteps approach me, I curl into myself even more, wishing that I could just disappear.

I hear _his_ loud voice speaking to me, but I can't tell what _he_ is saying.

Even without being able to hear _him_ , I know what _he_ is saying.

_Worthless. Pet. Pathetic. Animal. Useless. Dog. Nothing. I am nothing. I will be nothing. Nothing. I am nothing. Nothing. I will be nothing. Noth-_

I am ripped from my thoughts by a sharp tingling sensation spreading across my lips.

Suddenly, the panic clears. Instead of hearing the things _he_ has called me, I hear the sound of heavy breathing.

It takes a few seconds, but I realize that the heavy breathing is coming from me.

I will myself to calm down, not wanting to have another panic attack, especially since I was punished so heavily for the last time I had one.

Thinking of being punished does not allow me to calm down, instead, my breathing gets faster, that familiar fear and panic hitting me full-force.

The panic engulfs me, spreading through me like a fire burning a helpless forest. That's me. I'm the helpless forest. Helpless. I'm helpless.

Wanting to prove to _him_ that I am strong, that I am not just a helpless slave, I will myself to calm down, trying to think of happy thoughts, but, with the fear and pain that I feel, it is impossible.

"Please, calm down. It's okay. You're okay. I won't hurt you. You're safe here. I promise you that you are safe," I hear a gentle voice whisper, his words cutting through my panic.

Knowing that it isn't him, I slowly start to calm down, hoping that this person means what he says.

"Why?" I ask just above a whisper, my voice strained as I try my best to keep the fear I feel from being heard, despite knowing that he can probably see how afraid I am with just one look at me.

"Why what?" He asks just as quietly as before while placing his hand on my shoulder, the unexpected contact causing me to flinch as I curl in on myself, trying to get away from the contact.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel afraid or uncomfortable. I won't touch you anymore," he says in a rushed tone as he quickly takes his hand off my shoulder, the extra weight no longer there making me feel a little relieved, but that relief is nothing compared to what his words bring. I doubt that he is telling the truth, but, on the slim chance that he really is, him promising not to touch me fills me with a kind of hope that I have no allowed myself to feel in so long.

While clinging to the hope that he means what he says, I whisper, "You could get away with doing anything you want to me, yet you say that you don't want to hurt me, that you won't touch me. Why?"

Instead of answering my question, he replies with a question of his own.

"Haven't you already been hurt enough?"

His words shock me to the point that I raise my head to look him in the eyes, my many years of training forgotten after asking me only one question.

As I stare at him in complete shock, I notice that this man, who looks to be my age, possibly only a year younger, has short, spiky chestnut brown hair that seems to do as it pleases, sticking out in every imaginable direction. He has many freckles that dot most of his face, especially around his nose and cheeks, no facial hair, another telling that he might be slightly younger than me, and bright cobalt blue eyes that are unlike anything that I have ever seen.

After a few more seconds of looking into his eyes, realising that, not only am I looking him in the eyes, but also staring, I quickly lower my head in submission, terrified of him punishing me.

Hoping to escape the pain that I know will come at any moment for breaking the simplest of rules, I curl in on myself once again, trying to give him less places to hit me once the punishment begins.

As I wait for the first blow to land, I can't help but shake in terror-filled anticipation.

When he still hasn't hurt me, I begin to panic, fearing the worst. That he has left to gather torture devices, that he is analyzing me for weaknesses in order to find out where hitting me will do the most damage, or that he is waiting for someone else to arrive so that they can hurt me together, one of them pinning me down as they other does as he pleases, even-

"Hey, it's okay. I promise you that I'm not like the rest of them. I can only imagine how many rules you have broken in the short time that I have known you, but I won't punish you for breaking them. I don't want to hurt you," he whispers, breaking me from my thoughts before they can take me to a place where I don't want to go.

I try to respond, but the only sound that escapes is a wheeze, my quick, panicked breaths making it hard for me to breathe.

I clutch my chest with my bound hands, trying in vain to breathe.

"Hey. Can you hear me? Hey. You're gonna be okay. Just breathe. Breathe with me, okay? In.... Out.... In.... Out...." When his soft voice cuts through my panic, I cling to it, doing as he asks of me in hopes that he can take away the burning that I feel in my chest.

"That's it. Just breathe. In..... Out..... In..... Out..... In..... Out....." His soft voice says once again, his words slowly driving away both my panic and the tightness in my chest.

Now that I am able to breathe much easier, I become aware of the hands on my back, pulling me close to the body that I am against.

"There you go. I've got you, you're safe now," he whispers, causing me to realize that he is the one holding me.

Knowing that he is the only reason why I got through that panic attack without passing out, which is how most of my panic attacks end, I can't help but rest my head against his chest, feeling safe in his arms.

"You okay now?" He asks quietly as he begins rubbing small circles on my back, helping me calm down further.

I nod my head 'yes' against his chest as I close my eyes, feeling more relaxed than I ever have.

"You sure?" He asks, the concern in his tone confusing me, especially since the feeling is directed toward me.

Once again, I nod my head 'yes' against his chest.

"Do you want me to let go of you now?" He asks, being given a choice shocking me.

After a few seconds of just marveling over the fact that, for the first time in my life, I've been given a choice, I shake my head 'no', afraid that, if he lets go of me, the panic will take control of me again.

"Okay, just let me know if you start to feel uncomfortable," he says, him wanting to make sure that I don't feel uncomfortable confusing me, so used to feeling uncomfortable that I had begun to think that feeling that way was normal.

"Thank you, for getting me through that," I whisper, wanting to express my gratitude since I know that I wouldn't have made it through that without him.

"Anytime," he whispers, causing me to hope that he actually means what he says, that he will help me through my almost daily panic attacks.

After a little while longer of just sitting here in his embrace, my stomach growls loudly, instantly causing me to panic.

My breathing becomes rapid once again as I struggle to get away from him before he hurts me.

I begin to panic even more when he doesn't let go of me, afraid of what he is going to do to me.

"Stop!" He says in a slightly raised voice, his demand causing me to still, too afraid of angering him to try to get away.

Before I am able to enter a full-fledged panic attack, he continues in a much softer tone, "You're okay. I'm not going to hurt you for being hungry. You're fine. Please, calm down."

Just like before, I cling to his words and the large circles that he is now rubbing into my back, using both of those to drive away the panic.

"That's it. You're okay. You're safe," he whispers encouragingly as I slowly start to get my breathing back to a steady pace.

When I have finally calmed down again, I rest my head against his chest, feeling absolutely drained after two back to back panic attacks.

"Have you really been hurt before because your stomach was growling?" He asks quietly, sounding as if he is afraid to hear my answer.

"Many times. My last owner enjoyed starving me and, whenever I showed signs of hunger, he would punish me severly," I whisper, hoping that, by telling him this, I am not giving him the idea of doing so too.

"That's sick. I promise you that I would never do something like that," he says with such conviction that I find myself believing him, despite knowing that, when he does do that to me, it will hurt so much more since I thought that he never would.

Before I am able to thank him, he says, "I'm going to get you something to eat. Any preferences?"

I take a chance and whisper, "Anything but dog food, please. I-I don't think that I can eat anymore of that stuff."

"You've been fed dog food?" He asks in a sad whisper.

While trying hard to not let myself be overcome by memories of _him_ , I say, "My last owner, on the rare occasions that he would feed me, because he saw me as nothing more than an animal, would give me dog food."

"I'm glad that you escaped him. He sounds like an awful man," he whsipers as he lets his arms fall to his sides, giving me no excuse to stay on his lap with my head against his chest.

While biting down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out from the pain in my leg, I crawl off him, wishing that I could have stayed there forever, unsure if I will ever feel that safe again.

"I'll be back with some food in a few minutes. And I promise that it will be actual food, not the sad excuse for food that he gave to you," he says as he stands up and walks toward the door.

Before closing the door and leaving me alone, he gives me a small smile that almost causes me to smile back, but I don't, not knowing how to after so long without doing so.

Now that I am alone, I release a heavy sigh, afterward regretting that when doing so pulls on my back wound, causing me to wince.

"Is this real?" I ask no one in particular just above a whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

About a day ago, maybe a little more, I was still with _him_ , spending every waking moment in absolute terror. Even though some of that fear lingers, it is nothing compared to how _he_ made me feel. Thanks to this kind stranger, not only am I alive because he treated my wounds, but... I feel... safe.

Right now, unlike when I was with _him_ , I don't sit here shaking from the fear that someone will come in at any second and do as they please with me. The fear still rests in the back of my mind, but unlike _him_ , instead of causing my panic attacks, he helps me get through them. Instead of touching me however he pleases, just like _he_ used to enjoy doing, he gently holds me in his arms, meanwhile making sure that I am not uncomfortable.

Someone this kind, especially to a werewolf like me, seems impossible, like, at any moment, I will wake up to find myself back with _him_.

"If this is nothing more than a dream, please, just let me die in my sleep, don't let me return back to life with _him_ after I have gotten a taste of what could be," I plead desperately, the thought of finding myself back with _him_ again making me absolutely terrified.

Before the fear of finding myself with _him_ engulfs me, sending me into another panic attack, the door opens.

For a few seconds fear paralyzes me, but, after smelling delicious food, my fear is forgotten, being replaced by my hunger.

As he walks toward me, food in hand, I watch him warily, expecting him to take the food from me right before I can get my hands on it.

"I didn't know what to get you, so I just made a ham and cheese sandwhich. I hope it's okay," he says a little nervously as he stops in front of me.

I look up at him with what must be hopeful eyes, dreading that he will take away the sandwhich right before I can eat it.

As he lowers the sandwhich toward me, I don't dare reach for it, too afraid of him snatching it from my grasp when I am so close to having it.

"It's okay, you can take it," he says with a smile, seeming to notice my fear and hesitation.

Slowly, I raise my hands to grab the sandwhich, feeling as if this is too good to be true.

The second the soft, squishy sandwhich is in my hands, I bring it to my mouth and start to eat it as quick as I can, wanting to finish as much of it as I can when he decides that he doesn't want me to eat anymore.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his apology startling me so much that I pause in my frantic eating.

"Why? This... this has been the best day of my life," I admit after a few seconds of hesitation, afraid that, since I have admitted how amazing today has been, everything will change.

"That's why. All I am doing are simple acts of kindness that literally anyone could do, yet I seen to have changed your entire world. I.... I guess I'm sorry for the way you've been treated. I wish that I could go back in time to keep you from experiencing all the pain that you have felt. I don't know what exactly you've been though, so I won't pretend that I do, but from what I can see and have been told by you, you don't deserve to suffer the way that you have," he whispers as he purposely doesn't meet my eye, but I don't mind since, by the end of his words, there are tears in my eyes, no one ever having said something so kind to me.

"I..... thank you," I whisper, trying hard to keep it from being obvious that I have started to cry.

Much slower this time, I return back to eating my food, knowing that, unless his words are nothing more than an elaborate trick to catch me off guard, he won't take away my food.

Now that I am no longer inhaling my food, I begin to appreciate the flavors that dance on my tongue, so many flavors that I can't even begin to identify what they may be.

"Does it taste okay?" He asks, his question nearly causing me to choke on what little of my sandwhich is left.

"It's amazing! Thank you!" I exclaim a little louder than I anticipated, causing me to blush as I lower my head in embarrassment.

With a soft chuckle, so unlike the cruel laughter that I am used to hearing, he says, "I'm glad you like it."

Once I am finished, as I am debating whether or not I should thank him for the food again, he says, "I have to go to school now, but as soon as I get back home I will come see you again, okay?"

"Okay," I whisper, a little worried about being left alone, but knowing that, even if I did have the courage to voice my concern, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it since he has to attend school.

Without another word, he walks toward the door.

When he stops just a few feet away from the door and turns around, I am confused, but that confusion is replaced by a smile when he says, "I can't believe that we have been together all this time and I haven't even introduced myself yet. I'm Tyler."

After a few seconds of silence where he just stands there staring at me, I realize that he is expecting me to tell him my name too.

The thought of telling him my name makes me panic, unsure of what I should do. For all five owners I had, I never told any of them my name. They took so much from me, my pride, my dignity, my humanity, but the one thing that they could never use and abuse was my name. My name was the only thing that they couldn't take, couldn't use against me. If I tell Tyler my name, then I will have nothing that is solely mine. If I tell him my name, he could use it to hurt me.

But... he did say that he wouldn't hurt me. If I told him my name, after all the kindness he has shown me, would he really use my name against me? He is so different than my previous owners, so why should I treat him the way I have treated previous owners.

"Noah," I whisper so quietly that I am unsure if he will even be able to hear me.

The doubt in my mind over him having not heard me is erased when I see a huge grin spread across his face.

"I'll see you later, Noah," Tyler says as he turns around and resumes his walk toward the door.

As he closes the door, his smile still in place, he waves goodbye to me, causing me to smile ever so slightly.

Once he closes the door behind him, I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall, my smile growing as I think of how amazing today has been.

"Thank you," I whisper, so thankful that Tyler found me, that he saved me from the horrible life I had been living.

"Please, don't let this ever end," I whisper as I close my eyes, ready for sleep to visit me to help pass the time until he gets back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, it's another completed chapter! :) I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I had a lot of fun writing this one. Sorry that this is a week late, with school starting up again it's a little difficult to find time to write, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to get back into routine without having to cut back on the updates. Anyway, I hope to see you all next week in chapter 5. Bye :D


	5. Chapter 5

Tyler's pov

Quickly, I run home from school, occasionally looking behind me to make sure that I am not being followed.

Once I am a safe distance away from the school, I slow my pace to catch my breath, allowing my mind to wander as I do so.

Noah.

Just thinking of his name makes me smile. With how much he hesitated before telling me his name, I didn't think that he would.

I smile even wider when the trees that surround my house come into view, telling me that I will get to see Noah again soon.

As I get closer to seeing him again, I can't help but worry that he might not be okay. During the past three days that Noah has been here, I was forced to leave him alone to go to school, but this is my first time leaving him while he is conscious. What if he hurt himself and no one was there to help him?

The thought of Noah being injured and in need of my help causes me to start running again, knowing that I could never forgive myself if I let him get hurt again, especially after all the pain that he must have experienced throughout his life.

A few minutes later, I reach my house.

After a few seconds of fumbling with my key, I open the door and step inside, quickly shutting and locking it behind me.

"Please, let him be okay," I whisper as a sick feeling settles in my stomach.

As I run up the stairs, a part of me knows that I am just being paranoid, but I can't help but be affected by the little voice in the back of my mind that whispers to me _he's hurt badly, yet you did nothing to help him. He's dying, yet you did nothing to save him. You're the one who deserves to suffer, not him._

Only after I reach my bedroom with the door closed behind me do I realize that running up the stairs might have scared him, instantly making me feel guilty.

Wanting to make it up to him, as I walk toward the closest, I explain, "Noah, it's me, Tyler. I'm back now. Sorry if I scared you, I was just in a hurry to get up here so I could make sure that you are okay."

I pause for a few seconds with my hand hovering above the back of the chair, waiting to see if he responds, but, unsurprisingly, he doesn't, the only sound coming from inside the closet being heavy breathing, making me dread that he is still afraid of me despite the time we spent together this morning.

With a sad sigh over the thought of him still being afraid of me, I move the chair out from underneath the doorknob, pushing it aside and just leaving it on the floor once it topples over with a soft thud.

As my hand hovers over the doorknob, seconds away from opening it, I hear the front door buzz loudly, the sound of it unlocking telling me that my mom is home early. But why? She never leaves work early.

"Tyler, I got off work early today. Do you have any homework? If not, we could watch some tv together, just like old times," my mom says as she climbs the stairs, making it so that neither of us have to yell, something that I am grateful for since us yelling could scare Noah.

For a few seconds I am tempted to lie about having homework, but, deciding to be honest with her, I say, "I need to check on Noah, but later I would love to."

"Okay, take your time, Tie Tie, and let me know if you need any help," my mom says, the use of my childhood nickname causing me to smile, it being years since I last heard it.

I wait a few seconds to see if she will say anything more, but she doesn't, causing me to place my hand on the door knob, turning it slowly as the feeling of dread magnifies, forming a pit in my stomach that is hard for me to ignore.

I pause before opening the door, feeling like something is seriously wrong here.

As I contemplate grabbing my pocket knife before going in there, the door opens, slamming into me hard enough that I lose my balance and fall on the floor, hitting my head as I do so.

As my vision darkens from the door hitting my head extremely hard, distorting the beige carpet beneath me, a groan escapes me, unable to remain silent as the throbbing pain in my temple spreads throughout the rest of my head.

Sometime later, right when I have finally mustered up enough energy to sit up, I feel a heavy weight on my chest that not only makes it impossible for me to move, but also forces me to focus all my attention on trying to breathe with this added weight on top of me.

With a heavy sigh, I give up, knowing that there is nothing I can do to stop this.

While hoping that, just this once, my attacker will show me some mercy, I look up at them with pleading eyes.

When I see that my attacker is Noah, despite a part of me knowing that he wouldn't want to stay here with me, I can't help but feel both shocked and betrayed.

Above me sits Noah, but, unlike the last time I saw him, he no longer is human. His once ghostly-pale skin is now light gray fur that covers every inch of his new body. Instead of small, off-white teeth, I see that the top row of his teeth are long and sharp, the jagged teeth looking as if they are eager to tear into my flesh. His ears atop his head twitch occasionally, making me wonder what he is trying to hear. As I look into his eyes, I notice that, just like the rest of him, the transformation has caused those to change drastically too. The whites of his eyes are now yellow, the color of what his pupil had been, and his pupil is now black.

"Noah," I whisper with tears in my eyes, hoping that I can convince him not to do this, but, as he simply snarls at me in response, I realize that Noah is gone, this other side of him now in control.

Despite knowing that trying to reason with him is useless, I whisper, "Noah, it's me, Tyler. I don't know if you can hear me, but I promise you that I am not a threat. If you shift back before hurting me, I am willing to let this go, to simply act like this never happened. What do you say, Noah?"

In response to my proposal, his snarling intensifies, making me start to panic, afraid that one, or maybe even both of us, are not going to make it out of here without getting hurt.

"Noah-" I start to say, but my reasoning is cut short, my words being replaced by a scream as his teeth sink into my shoulder.

In an instant, Noah is no longer on me, causing me to release a relieved sigh that comes out sounding more like a sob than anything else, but I don't care, him now being gone allowing me to clutch my bloody shoulder.

Before I can even attempt to sit up, my bedroom door flies open, it banging against my bedroom wall causing me to jump.

"You!" my mom screams at Noah.

Hearing her this upset, something that hasn't happened in over a year, causes me to panic, afraid of what she might do to Noah.

"I-I'm s-so sorry. I-I didn't mean to h-hurt him," Noah pleads, the fear and desperation in his tone making me realize that my mom is approaching him with the intent of hurting, or maybe even killing him.

"You will regret hurting my son," my mom threatens, making me jump to action, knowing that she will do whatever she has planned unless I stop her.

"Mom, stop! Let me handle this," I say as I slowly sit up, my shoulder protesting the movement, but that doesn't matter right now.

Saving Noah is the only thing that matters right now.

"He hurt you. It is my job as a parent to protect you," my mom says, making a good argument, but, unlike usual, I don't back down, knowing that this is something worth fighting for.

As I slowly get to my feet, my head still throbbing from when the door collided with it, I see that my mom is standing only a few feet away from Noah, our largest kitchen knife in hand. Meanwhile, in the corner of the room sits Noah. His trembling form is curled into a small ball. The only sound that escapes his lips is him repeatedly apologizing, making me feel confused. He shifted and, despite me giving him a way out where neither of us would get hurt, hurt me as his own decision. If he knew that it would be something that he would feel sorry over, why would he have done it in the first place?

Knowing that I need to get to the bottom of this, hoping that this argument will work, I say, "I know that you are supposed to protect me, but Noah is my responsibly. I brought him here with the intention of taking care of him, and, despite this setback, I still intend on doing so, whether you like it or not."

"Setback! He could have killed you!" my mom yells, causing both Noah and I to flinch, but still, I refuse to back down.

"But he didn't. I'm still alive, Mom, and that is all that matters. I have been too lenient with him and I gave him the idea that it was okay to hurt me. Once I am through with him, I can guarantee that he won't try to hurt me ever again," I say, holding back a wince when my words cause Noah to whimper, not wanting to make him afraid, but knowing that this is the only way I will be able to keep my mom from taking matters into her own hands.

"Fine, but if he does hurt you, even the slightest of scratch, he is gone," my mom says with a sigh, her giving in just this once causing me to smile triumphantly.

"Deal," I say with my smile still in place, so thankful that she is going to let me handle this.

"And you," she addresses Noah in a harsh tone, causing him to whimper. "If you ever hurt my son again, I promise you that it will be the last thing you ever do."

"Let me know if you need any help with that wound, I will be downstairs sharpening our knives, just in case someone forces me to use them," my mom says as she walks toward the door, her words causing Noah to curl in on himself more as another whimper escapes.

"Will do," I say with a forced smile, hoping that that last comment was just her dark humor coming out and she isn't actually sharpening knives to hurt Noah with.

Not ready to deal with Noah yet, I walk into the bathroom and grab the first aid kit out from underneath the sink, realizing that I have used this more in this past week than I have throughout... as long as I can remember.

After cleaning and wrapping the wound, a difficult task while trying not to look at it, afraid that doing so will either make me sick or even angrier with Noah, I exit the bathroom to find that Noah is still where I left him.

"Stand up," I demand, hating seeing him like this.

Without a word, he begins to stand on extremely shaky legs.

He is almost to his feet when he falls to his knees with a cry of pain.

"I-I'm so-sorry, M-Master. I can't, m-my leg-" he stutters as he bows low to the floor, touching his forehead to the carpet in front of me.

I release a frustrated sigh, not knowing what to do with him.

Maybe it would have been a better idea to let my mom deal with him.

The second the thought crosses my mind, I push it away knowing that, if I left him for my mom to deal with him, he would no longer be alive.

"Noah," I demand, knowing that this will determine what I do to him.

"Why did you hurt me?" I continue, hoping that he will have a good reason, something so amazing that I won't have to hurt him.

"Master, I'm broken," he whispers so quietly that I almost don't hear him.

"What do you mean?" I ask gently, hoping that he will elaborate.

"Unlike other werewolves, I can't control when I shift. Usually, I black out whenever I shift. One moment I am fine, then the next moment I am being punished for some horrific act that I supposedly committed. This time was no different than all the others. One minute I was asleep, then I suddenly heard screaming. Once I realized what I was doing, after several seconds of struggling, I was able to shift back, but the damage was already done. I... I deserve any punishment you wish to give me, but I want you to know that I would never try to hurt you, Master. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I wouldn't be willing to do anything that could jeopardize this, but it seems that I already have.

After a few seconds of silence, unable to take the tense silence any longer, but also not knowing what I should do, I demand, "Look at me."

Immediately, he moves from his submissive position and moves so that he is looking at me, but at the same time, he isn't. He raises his head so that his eyes go no higher than my throat, making me feel frustrated.

"I want you to actually look at me," I elaborate through gritted teeth, hoping that this time he will get it right since I am not sure if I can take much more of this.

Slowly, seeming uncertain on whether or not this is what I meant, he raises his head so that his eyes meet mine.

The second I see the regret in his eyes, I know that he is telling the truth, the sight causing me to smile, so thankful that I don't have to hurt him.

While lowering his head once again, he whispers, "Master, I am so sorry for hurting you."

"I know you are. I forgive you," I whisper as I place my hand on his shoulder.

Immediately, his head snaps up, the shock on his face and the tears in his eyes causing my smile to disappear, hating that three little words, which have been said time after time again, seem to mean the world to him.

"Why?" Noah chokes out in a strained whisper, unshed tears in his eyes.

"You had no control over what you did, so why should I punish you?" I ask a question of my own, not wanting to get into the real reason why I can't find it in myself to punish him.

He doesn't say anything response to my question. Instead, he starts to sob, at first quietly, but, after not much time at all, his sobs are so loud that my mom can probably hear them from downstairs.

Wanting to comfort him, despite being uncertain if he will let me, I move my hand from his shoulder and, while kneeling in front of him, I stretch my arms out toward him in what will hopefully become a hug.

"What are you doing?" Noah asks in alarm as he stares at me warily, his sobs instantly dying as his body becomes tense.

"You look like you could use a hug," I say with a small smile, hoping that this will help prove to him that he has nothing to fear from me.

He takes in a sharp, shaky breath, afterward chewing on his bottom lip as he lowers his head to the floor.

Just when I have given up hope, ever so slightly, I see him nod his head 'yes'.

While making sure to keep my movements slow and gentle, I wrap him into a hug.

At first, his body tenses even more as his breathing becomes hitched from the contact, but then, after a few awkward seconds of me hugging him without him to doing anything in return, he releases a shaky sigh before hugging me back tightly, so tight that it feels as though he is clinging to me for dear life.

A choked sob escapes him, the sound instantly causing him to still, seeming like he is now afraid.

"It's okay, Noah, you can let it out. You are safe with me. No one is going to hurt you, I promise," I whisper with a sad smile as I begin rubbing small circles into his back, not wanting him to be afraid any longer.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he begins to cry into my chest, his tears dampening my shirt, but I don't mind, knowing how badly he needs this after all that has happened to him.

After a few minutes of crying, with one last sniffle, he finally finishes, but doesn't let go of me yet, him wanting to continue the contact causing me to smile.

"Thank you, Master, for everything," Noah whispers, his words causing me to smile a little more.

When I don't respond to his thanks, he continues, "Seriously, thank you. I... I never thought that I would find a master who treats me as if I am more than just an animal."

I don't respond to his words, not knowing what to say to such a sad statement.

After a minute spent in awkward silence, he yawns, causing me to ask, "Tired?"

A little hesitantly, he nods his head 'yes' against my chest.

"Let's get you to bed then," I say as I pull back from the hug and stand up, trying to ignore how he curls in on himself now that I am towering over him.

Unable to ignore his obvious fear and discomfort, I say with a sad smile, "Noah, I know that what happened today must have scared you, but I promise that no one is going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you, so I won't. As for my mom, I know how... intense she can get, but she is only stressed over work. She means no harm, but even if she does try to hurt you, I will protect you."

Slowly, he starts to relax, a shaky sigh escaping as he slowly starts to move from his fetal position.

Knowing that he won't be able to stand up without my help, I reach out my hand to help him up, wincing when the action causes him to flinch and curl back into a fetal position.

"I only want to help you up," I whisper with a sigh, hating that trying to help him makes him terrified of me.

"I'm sorry, Master. I-I just... I-" Noah whispers in a small voice, but I don't let him get very far into his apology, unable to take hearing him apologize for what all those horrible people have turned him into.

"Shhhh, you don't have to apologize. After all the pain you have been through, I am shocked by how much trust you have already put in me. I know that it is going to take a while for you to realize that you are safe with me, but that is okay. It's worth the wait," I whisper with a small smile, hoping that my words will comfort him.

Slowly, he lifts his head to look at me, causing me to flash him a smile, hoping that doing so will be enough to let me help him.

While looking very uncertain, he carefully takes my hand, seeming like he is afraid to hurt me again.

The second his hand is in mine, I pull him to his feet, not wanting to give him a chance to change his mind about accepting my help.

Carefully, I wrap his arm around my shoulder, being sure not to agitate my wound.

"This... this is wrong. I should be helping you, Master, not the other way around. After hurting you, I shouldn't even be alive. I don't deserve your kindness, I deserve to be in pain," Noah whispers as I help him walk toward my bunk bed, not wanting him to keep sleeping on the floor of my closet for another night.

In hopes that, just this once, I will be able to share my opinion with someone who might actually listen, I can't help but say, "Have you ever thought that the people who have told you who you are, what you do and don't deserve, might be wrong? I can't help but think that all the time. This entire system, no, the entire world, is corrupted, but no one dares question it. I do. They say that questioning is flawed, but, in reality, it shows us the flaws of our old ways. I don't really know where I'm going with this, so I am just going to say one last thing. To me, everything about the enslavement of werewolves is wrong and, what I am doing right now, is something that is finally being done right."

"Imagine what the world would be like if there were more people like you," Noah whispers in awe, the thought causing me to smile widely.

"You make it sound great, but, unless you like fire, it wouldn't be all that great. If I got the chance, I would burn everything to the ground and start anew in hopes that this disaster will never happen again," I say with an evil smirk, imagining everything I hate about this world going up in flames.

"Should I be scared?" Noah asks with a small smile, making me laugh.

"Don't worry, I would find somewhere safe for us to be as we watch the world burn together," I say with a huge smile, enjoying both the thought of watching the world burn while Noah and I are safe together and also this interaction that, for once, isn't ruled by fear.

"I would like that," he says with his smile still in place.

By now we have reached my bed, causing his smile to fall as his face becomes clouded with confusion.

"I-I can't sleep here, Master," Noah whispers as he tries to get away from me, but my grip on the arm around my shoulders doesn't let him.

"It's okay, I can help you get up and down the ladder," I say with a reassuring smile, assuming that this is what he is worried about.

"No, Master, I... I hurt you earlier today. I should be punished, not be allowed to sleep in a bed, one of highest rewards a slave can receive," Noah pleads, the desperation in his voice causing my heart to ache.

"Noah," I say with a heavy sigh, trying hard to hold the tears back over how is practically begging for me to punish him.

"Do you want to be punished?" I continue after taking a few deep breaths, hating that we have to have this conversation again.

"I deserve to be killed for what I did, so punishing me is the least you should do," Noah whispers, his words making me even more frustrated.

Roughly, I shove him away from me, not wanting him near me anymore.

With a startled cry, he falls to the floor, wincing as he lands on his knees.

Unable to remain calm any longer, I yell, "You don't get it! Those people, the ones who said that you deserve to be punished for every mistake you make, the ones that say you deserve to _die_ for hurting me, are wrong! They. Are. Wrong. If _you_ want to be punished, then I will reluctantly punish you, but if you think that a punishment is what you deserve, then you are wrong too."

Then, dropping my voice to only a whisper, I continue, "I... I thought that maybe I could save you, that they hadn't broken you completely, but now, I'm not so sure. I want to help you, Noah, I really do, but you make it so difficult sometimes. I know that it's not your fault that they made you like this, but..."

I pause when I see his shoulders shaking from silent sobs, the sight making me feel awful. I did this. I made him cry.

With a heavy sigh, I kneel beside and whisper as I pull him into a hug, "This is stupid. I'm sorry, Noah. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

When he hugs me back, I breathe a sigh of relief, so glad that he forgives me for what I did.

"You are right, Master, about everything," Noah whispers a little while later once his crying has come to an end.

"No, not everything. You are not broken. Badly bruised? Yes, but not broken. It will take some time, but, as long as I am patient, I know that I can help you. In return, I ask that you try to be patient with me. Life sucks right now, and I am trying to keep it together, but sometimes it is just so hard," I whisper, deciding to be honest with him, to finally let someone know that I am struggling.

"I will, Master," Noah says, his willingness to deal with me and all of my problems causes me to smile slightly.

"Thank you. Let's get you to bed now," I say as I stand up.

Afterward, I extend a hand to help him up, which he takes this time without hesitation, causing me to smile widely.

Carefully, I help him up the ladder, worried that doing so is causing him pain, but, if it is, he doesn't show it.

Once he is in bed, I say with a small smile, "Sleep well, Noah."

He doesn't respond, leaving me to assume that he is already asleep.

Not feeling up to going downstairs after all that has happened, I lay down in bed, hoping that my mom won't be too upset over me not spending time with her today.

After only a few seconds of laying in bed, I fall asleep too, thankful that I just have to get through one more day at school before the weekend is finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know that this chapter is a week late, but I decided that waiting til now to post this would be best. Chapter six is pretty intense and also ends in a cliffhanger, so I decided that, instead of posting this chapter last week like I normally would have, I am going to post chapter six at the beginning of next week like usual and chapter seven on either Thursday or Friday so that you don't have to live with that cliffhanger for an entire week. Also, I have been meaning to thank you guys for a while, so now seems like a pretty good time to do so. Before even posting this chapter, this story is already at over 300 hits!!! That's insane guys!!! Seriously, thank you all for taking the time to read my story, it truly means the world to me. Alright, after this super long author's note, I just want to say that I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I will see you all next week in chapter six. Bye :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this... please don't hate me too much!!!

Noah's pov

Slowly, as the haziness clears, I feel a slick, warm liquid dripping from my hands onto my legs, instantly making me worried.

Through blurry vision, I lift my hands to my face to see that they are a red blob.

Blood.

For a few seconds I begin to panic, waiting for the pain of my bleeding wound to hit me, but, when it doesn't, instead of my panic lessening, it only intensifies.

If the blood isn't coming from me, then it must be from someone else.

Does that mean that I hurt someone?

Tyler.

Quickly, I look around the room, hoping that this blood doesn't belong to Tyler, that I didn't hurt the one person who has treated like I am more than just an animal.

A few feet away from me, I see a familiar body lying on the floor, making me feel like I am going to be sick.

While hoping that I didn't hurt him too badly, I crawl toward Tyler, trying my best not to hurt my leg anymore than I already have.

When I stop a foot away from him, I see that he is clutching his chest, blood seeping through his fingers, causing my breath to get caught in my throat as a choked sob escapes me.

Before I am able to apologise, in one swift, unexpected, movement, he moves his hand from his chest and wraps it around my throat.

I don't struggle to get away, just stare at the deep gashes on his chest from claws sinking into his flesh.

My claws.

I did this.

I hurt him.

I don't deserve to live for doing something this horrible.

Instead of hating him for the pain that he will inflict on me, I begin to hate myself, knowing that, no matter how hard it is to admit, all the things that _he_ said are true.

_Worthless. Pet. Pathetic. Animal. Useless. Dog. Nothing. I am nothing. I will be nothing. Nothing. I am nothing. Nothing. I will be nothing. Nothing. Useless. Nothing. Worthless. Nothing. I am nothing._ _Nothing._

I am broken from my thoughts when the tightness in my chest becomes unbearable, forcing me to try in vain to suck in oxygen as dark gray spots cloud my vision, but his tight hold on my throat won't let me get the air that I desperately need.

By the time my vision is nothing but gray, my chest feeling like it is about to explode, but my head feels extremely light, he releases my throat, allowing my to suck in a huge lungful of oxygen.

I only get to take one breath before his hand is on my throat again, depriving me of oxygen once more.

"Tyler," I wheeze, hoping that he will give me another chance, that, after everything I have gone through, this won't be the end.

When he doesn't respond, I try to escape his hold, but he easily pins me, climbing on top of me, adding extra weight on my chest, ripping the air from my lungs faster, and uses his knees to pin my arms, leaving me completely at his mercy.

Once again, as I am about to pass out from lack of oxygen, he releases his hold.

Quickly, I take in as much oxygen as I can, not knowing when he might deprive me of oxygen again.

As I cough and gasp, trying so hard to catch my breath before he chokes me again, he says in a sad, regretful tone, "I could forgive you the first time you tried to hurt me, but not this time. For hurting me, you deserve to be punished."

I open my mouth to respond, but my words are forgotten when his fist connects with my jaw, causing the familiar metallic taste blood to fill my mouth.

After another blow lands, this time his fist connecting with my right eye that had finally healed completely, I begin to sob, hating the throbbing pain I feel, hating that I am such a failure, hating myself, hating absolutely everything.

As the blows continue to rain down on my face, my thoughts continue this downwards spiral, telling me that this is what I deserve. I deserve to suffer. I deserve to be in pain. For being such a failure, I deserve this. For being broken, unable to control this other part of me, I deserve this. Most of all, for thinking that I had a future, that, for once in my life, I wouldn't have to spend day after day in pain, I deserve this.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tyler yells, breaking me from my self-deprecating thoughts.

"N-no, M-Master. I'm-m sorry," I whisper, knowing that I will regret not listening to him.

"Pathetic," Tyler sneers as he stabs the thigh of my broken leg, causing me to bit down hard on my already swollen bottom lip to keep from screaming.

Now that the knife is deep within my flesh, he twists it ruthlessly.

Pain explodes throughout my leg, causing me to howl as more tears leak from my eyes.

Instead of stopping after seeing how much pain he is causing me, he just twists the knife deeper.

I scream at the top of my lungs as the pain in my leg intensifies. Dark gray spots fill my vision for what seems like the thousandth time today, my head feeling as if it weighs less than the unrelentless knife in my leg. The pain in my leg spreads like a wildfire burning a helpless forest. That's me. I'm the helpless forest. Here I am, left by myself to slowly burn, the fire engulfing my branches as the smoke suffocates me. Dying. I'm dying. I don't know why I thought that anything would change. I will always be the helpless forest that everyone wants to burn. I'm so stupid for thinking that I could become anything more than this burning forest. No matter what people say, they want nothing more than to cause me pain, to spread their fire throughout my limbs. I thought that Tyler was different. I was wrong. Stupid. I'm so stupid. Instead of him saving me, instead of putting out the fire, he is the one who started it.

I am broken from my thoughts when pain enters my stomach.

Hesitantly, I open my eyes and lift my head an inch off the floor, which is all I can manage. The second I look at my stomach to see what has caused this intense pain, I wish I hadn't.

Instead of it being in my leg, Tyler's pocket knife sticks out of my stomach, sealing my fate.

Hoping that, if I remove the knife, it will magically heal my wound, I reach for the knife.

I expect his knees to make it impossible for me to move my arms, but they aren't there, making me wonder at what point he got off me.

The second my fingers brush against the hilt of the knife, right before I can get a good enough grip to pull it out, he uses one hand to grab both of my wrists, making me unable to pull out the knife, while using the other to push the knife in deeper, causing me to scream in unadulterated agony.

"Please," I sob, hoping that, even though I don't deserve it, he will grant me some mercy.

Unintentionally, Tyler grants me mercy by digging the knife in deeper, the pain, and probably the blood loss too, causing me to fall unconscious.

Sometime later, I open my eyes to see dirt beneath me, instantly causing me to panic, terrified that Tyler has abandoned me.

Slowly, I roll from my side onto my back, tears springing to my eyes as I do so, both from the pain and when the tall redwood trees that tower over me confirm my fear to be true.

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, trying in vain to hold back my tears.

After a few more seconds of trying to resist crying, I give in, hating that I forced Tyler to do this. If I hadn't hurt him, he never would have brought me back to the place where he first found me. Because of what I did, I am stuck here, near the brink of death, once again.

The worst part about this is that, unlike the last time I was here, I know that no one will find me, but, even if someone does, they won't save me.

I don't deserve to be saved.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! Sorry that it has been so long since the last chapter, but, regardless of that, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Tyler's pov

For once in my life, when a soft whimper wakes me, I am glad that I'm not a heavy sleeper.

After a few seconds of wondering where the sound came from, I realize that it must have been Noah, instantly making me worried.

Assuming that he is having a nightmare, I crawl out of bed, wanting to chase it away for him.

Now that I am no longer in bed, I look at the top bunk to see Noah thrashing around violently, the occasional whimper escaping as he does so.

Afraid that he is going to hurt himself, I quickly climb the ladder.

For several seconds, I just stare at Noah, the moonlight seeping through the window illuminating his face, showing me that it is shiny from sweat. The next thing I notice is that the covers are wrapped tightly around him, making it difficult for him to move, but that doesn't stop his wild, erratic movements.

I continue to watch him, hoping that he will escape his nightmare on his own since I am unsure of what I should do to help him.

When he slams his hand against the wall, the sound of his hand colliding with it echoing throughout the room, not wanting him to hurt himself more than he already has, I decide to take action.

While hoping that this won't scare him too badly, I straddle him, using my legs to pin his arms as I lightly sit on his chest.

Before I can start whispering comforting words to help coax him out of his nightmare, he wakes up and immediately tries to sit up, his eyes filling with absolute terror, unlike anything I have ever seen.

With glossy eyes, seeming like he is trying hard to hold back tears, Noah, sounding very far away, faintly whispers "Master, please, I'm begging you, not tonight. I promise that, next time, I will be obedient, that I will take all you give me without a sound or complaint."

"Noah, it's me, Tyler. It's just you and me. No one is going to hurt you, okay?" I whisper as I gently trail my fingers across his cheek.

I quickly pull my hand back when I see betrayal flash across his face, the sight hurting more than every blow I have ever felt combined.

Did I do something wrong?

"Master, I will happily accept what you have to give me, but, please, not tonight. I-I don't think I can take it... Please, Master, not tonight. Tomorrow I will gladly take it all, I only ask that you wait till then," Noah says as he closes his eyes, his entire body going rigid as he tries to prepare for something.

It takes a few seconds of thinking over his words carefully to realize what he thinks I'm going to do, just the thought of it making me feel like I'm going to be sick.

"Noah..." I start, but have to pause to take in a shaky breath, unable to believe that I have to say this.

After a few more shaky breaths, feeling a little less like I am going to throw up at any moment, I say in a firm tone, "Noah, I'm not going to rape you. Not now, not ever."

He opens his mouth to speak, but seems to think better of it, closing it without a word.

Guessing that he was going to ask me why I am here, nervously, I say, "I-I... You were having a nightmare. I wanted to make sure that you didn't hurt yourself... I thought that doing this would work, but I see now that I gave you the wrong impression. I'm sorry. I-I'll leave now."

Afterward, feeling heat rush to my cheeks as the embarrassment starts to settle in, I quickly climb off him.

I am nearly to the ladder when a loose grip on my wrist stops me, the gentle contact causing me to pause in my hasty exit.

Feeling confused, I turn slightly to see that Noah is no longer trapped in the covers, his now free hand on my wrist.

I smile, but that fades once I see that his eyes are shut tightly and his body is still tense, seeming like he is expecting me to hurt him.

"Noah, I know that you are probably shaken up by your nightmare, it seemed pretty intense, but nothing has changed between us. I'm still not going to hurt you. I still want you to speak if you have something to say. I still want you to ask something if you have a question. I promise you that, whatever happened in your nightmare, it doesn't mean anything," I say as I grab the hand that is on my wrist, instead holding it between both of mine, assuming that his nightmare is the reason why he is so afraid of me, maybe more so than he was the night I found him.

"Please, stay," Noah whispers as he slowly opens his eyes, and, after only a few seconds of hesitation, they latch onto mine.

"I'd love to," I say with a large smile, so glad that, even after his nightmare, which probably had something to do with me hurting him, not only does he not hate me, but he wants me to stay with him.

Once I lay down beside him, staying far away to keep from touching him, I ask, "Is this okay?"

"Can..... can I... come........ closer?" Noah asks quietly, having difficulty asking the question, but he did, both the fact that he feels safe enough to ask me that and that he wants to be near me causes me to grin like a joyful child.

"Yeah," I whisper immediately, not wanting him to mistake hesitation for me not liking the question or the fact that he is asking them.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he scoots closer so that he is laying beside me, pressed against my side.

While wrapping my arm around his shoulders, using it to pull him closer, I say, "At any time, if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?"

"...... Okay," he says after a few seconds of hesitation, causing me to smile wider, my jaw starting to hurt from smiling so much, something that hasn't happened since I was a child.

"Would it be okay if I asked you some questions? If you want to, we could take turns asking each other questions," I ask after a minute of silence, curiosity eating me away as I wonder what happened in his nightmare and if I really was a part of it.

"Could I ask a question first?" He asks quietly, seeming a little afraid to ask me that.

While pulling him closer once more, his head now resting on the inside of my shoulder, I say, "Go ahead."

After a few minutes that I spend patiently waiting for him to speak, he quietly asks, "Why... why are you so nice to me? I..... I'm just a slave. My sole purpose is to follow your every command without resistance or complaint. I'm not here to be treated with kindness, to be treated like I'm anything more than worthless, I'm only here to serve. Because I am supposed to fulfill your every command, you could force me to do anything, or, saying that I didn't do as you wish, you could do anything to me. No one cares what you do to me. No one even cares about me, no one-"

Unable to take any more of this, I gently press a finger to his lips, cutting him off immediately.

"I care about you," I whisper as I move my finger, trying to ignore how he tense he is.

"You do?" He asks extremely quietly, seeming like he can't believe that someone could care about him.

"I do," I whisper with a small smile.

He drapes his arm over my chest, causing me to smile wider, glad that he is feeling safe enough to do so.

"But why?" He asks, causing me to realize that I never answered his question.

For a few seconds, I debate whether I should just ask another rhetorical question to avoid bringing up painful memories, or if I should finally tell him the truth.

Deciding to be honest, hoping that he will do the same when it is my turn to ask a question, after releasing a heavy sigh, I say, "When I was five, I saw my first werewolf. He couldn't have been much older than me. He was covered in dirt, following silently behind his master, his head lowered to the ground as he was being pulled along by the leash attached to the collar at his neck. He must have tripped, because, in the time it took me to blink, his master was on him, beating him senselessly. He was silent, but the crowd that had started to gather around them wasn't. They were yelling to hit him harder, to make him suffer. I... I couldn't stay to make sure that he was okay, I just ran until my brother found me and brought me home. Ever since that day, I have hated the way werewolves are treated. When I saw that you were a werewolf, once the initial shock and fear wore off, I... I was reminded of that boy. Nearly every day since then, I have thought of the boy, what I could have done differently, if I could have saved him. I wasn't able to save him, but I could, and did, save you."

When he is silent, I begin to panic, afraid that, because he now knows that I only saved him because I couldn't save that boy, he will hate me.

After another minute that I spend panicking, he quietly asks, "What did the boy's collar look like?"

Even though I don't understand why he is asking this, I answer to the best of my ability, "I think it was black and had spots with white on them, which were glowing at the time. The spots with white seemed to be some kind of symbol, but I don't know what it was. Why do you ask?"

He takes in a quick, shaky breath before saying, "The boy you saw... I think it was me. My second collar was black and covered in symbols that I couldn't read. I don't know how it worked exactly, but, whenever I did something wrong or not to his liking, the symbols would come to life, starting to glow. Once the glow became so bright that it almost hurt to look at it, I would be shocked.

"That sounds awful," I whisper, hating that he has had to go through so much pain.

"Honestly, it wasn't that bad. Other than what you saw in the market, which was because I wasn't paying attention and ran into someone, the collar was his only form of punishment," he says with a shrug of his shoulders, seeming like he isn't bothered by being hurt for no good reason. We all make mistakes, but Noah talks about being shocked for every one of them as if it isn't that bad.

I stay silent, not knowing how to respond to that.

After a minute of silence, with a small smile, I say, "Noah, I'm glad that you are okay. So many times since that day I have wondered if you even lived past that day, and, if you did, for how much longer you would be alive. Now that you are here, I promise you that I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

"Thank you," he whispers as he snuggles into my side, causing me to smile wider.

"Can I ask you a question now?" I can't help but ask, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

Once I feel him nod his head 'yes', I say, "You don't have to answer if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but what was your nightmare about?"

"After everything that has happened since my nightmare, it seems stupid. When I first saw you tonight, I was afraid that my nightmare could actually happen, but I know now that you would never hurt me like that. If I tell you about, will you be mad at me for thinking that you might actually do those things to me?" He asks, fear in his tone, making me a little worried about what I did to him in his nightmare.

Immediately, I say in my most convincing tone, "Of course I won't get mad. After everything you have gone through, I can understand why you might be afraid of me hurting you. I'm just glad that you now you know that I would never try to hurt you."

"Even if I hurt you?" He asks in a whisper, that fear still in his voice despite what I just said.

"Do you want to hurt me?" I ask just as quietly, even though, based on the regret he showed yesterday when he accidentally hurt me, I already know the answer.

Once he shakes his head 'no', I say, "I don't want to hurt you either, so I won't. I know that you can't control when you shift, so, if you do hurt me when you shift, as long as you try to reverse the damage you cause, help patch me up and clean up whatever mess there is, we shouldn't have a problem."

"You're amazing," he says with a soft, disbelieving laugh, the foreign, yet beautiful, sound causing me to smile like a maniac.

"So are you," I whisper, feeling so lucky to have found him.

While hoping that I don't regret this, I plant a kiss on top of his head, suddenly feeling compelled to do so.

"Do you still want to hear about my nightmare?" Noah asks, thankfully not mentioning the kiss since even I have no idea why I did that.

"I do," I say as I try to prepare myself for whatever horrible thing I did to him in his nightmare.

He releases a shaky sigh before saying, "I had just shifted out of being a werewolf to find my hands covered in blood. I thought that it was from me, but when I didn't feel any pain, I began to worry that it was your blood. When I saw your body on the floor, I ran to you to find that I had left deep gashes on your chest from my claws. Before I could apologize, you grabbed me by my throat and pinned me. For what must have been only minutes but felt like hours, you would choke me, only letting me take a breath when I was about to pass out before choking me again. You told me that you could forgive me for hurting you the first time, but that I had to be punished this time. After that, you began to punch me, but I didn't really notice it since I was lost in my thoughts, which sounds like a good thing, but it wasn't. I was pulled from my thoughts when you stabbed my broken leg. You... you kept twisting the knife, I begged you not to, but-but you wouldn't listen. Finally, y-you pulled out the knife and instead s-stabbed me in the stomach. I kept begging, but all you did was push the knife in deeper, causing me to fall unconscious. I woke up to find myself in the place where you found me and I knew that this time I was going to die. Master, pl-please, tell me that you won't leave me. I know that I'm not the best slave, but I promise you that I can be useful. I can be useful, just give me a chance."

By the end of his words, he is sobbing, clinging to me tightly.

"Shhhhh, it's okay. I'm not gonna leave you, Noah," I whisper as I begin rubbing small circles on his back, hoping that they will help him calm down.

After a few more minutes, with one last sniffle, his crying comes to an end, allowing us to have a much-needed conversation.

"You okay now?" I ask before getting into this conversation, wanting to make sure that he is well enough to focus.

Once he nods his head 'yes', I nervously say, "This is a conversation that I have been wanting to have for a while, but I didn't know when to bring it up. Now seems like a good time though..."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down before I start talking too fast for him to understand me.

"Noah, I don't want you to call me 'Master'. Every time you say it, I think of how you have been forced to call your previous owners that. Honestly, I hate them. If I ever got my hands on them, I would make them pay for hurting you. I know that you are used to calling your owners 'Master' so it might take some time to break from that habit, but, as long as you try, I am okay with that."

"Okay. What should I call you?" Noah asks immediately, his ease to accept not calling me "Master" causing me to smile.

"Just my name. There is no need for formalities here. After all, we are friends, aren't we?" I say with my smile still in place, but it takes on a nervous edge, afraid that, just like everyone else I have asked to be my friend, he will reject me.

"You think we are friends?" He asks in an unreadable tone, the all too familiar question causing me to flinch, wishing that I had never said anything.

"Forget that I said that. I should have known that you wouldn't want to be friends with someone like me. No one does," I say in a frustrated tone as push him off me, rushing to get out of here before he notices the tears that have started to stream down my face.

"Tyler, please, don't go," Noah says, the desperation in his voice causing me to stop, this all too familiar situation suddenly seeming so different.

Slowly, I hear Noah approach me, making me afraid. This is the part where someone hurts me, whether it be physically or mentally, it always happens, and, despite all that I have done for Noah, I know that this time will be no different.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch, waiting for the pain to come, but it doesn't.

Hesitantly, I lift my head from the small ball that I was trying to curl myself into to see Noah sitting in front of me, concern in his eyes.

"I'm not the only one here who has been hurt," Noah states, causing me to lower my head, hating that he found out the truth, that I am not the knight in shining armor who whisks him off to safety. I am just a kid who can't take care of himself, let alone another person. I promise him safety, but I can't even keep myself safe.

"Can I see?" Noah asks gently, his hand on the hem of my shirt.

After a few seconds of wondering how he could have known about the bruises underneath my shirt, I nod my head 'yes', deciding that, if he is going to know about what happens to me daily, he might as well see it with his own eyes.

Slowly, he pulls the shirt off my head, leaving me feeling more exposed than I ever have.

After releasing a shaky sigh, I lower my legs while making sure to shut my eyes tightly so that I don't have to see his reaction, giving him a full view of my battered and bruised body.

Suddenly, I feel a cold hand on one of the large, purple bruises on my stomach, the gentle contact, so unlike the hand that gave me the bruise, causing me to shiver.

"Tyler," Noah whispers, his voice filled with so much sadness that it causes me to open my eyes, something that I thought would be impossible.

I see his arms outstretched in a hug, realizing that, even though he sees the truth, he isn't going to turn me away, or, worse, to hurt me like so many others have.

With a shy smile, not used to feeling so vulnerable, I move closer to him, wanting that hug.

Once I reach him, he wraps me in a hug, seeming to be a little more careful with me now that he knows how weak I am.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as I bury my head in the crook of his neck.

"Why?! Because someone hurt you?!" Noah asks as he pulls back from the hug to look me in the eyes.

"I keep promising that I will keep you safe, that I won't let anyone hurt you, but I can't do that. If I can't even keep myself safe, how am I supposed to keep you safe?" I ask hopelessly, feeling like I have let him down.

"You don't have to do it all on your own, Tyler. I know that I don't look like it, but, if I am in a situation where I am forced to fight, I will until I have nothing left. We can help take care of each other," Noah says with a small smile that causes me to smile slightly too.

"Are you sure that you would want to do that?" I can't help but ask, finding it hard to believe that he would rather help than hurt me.

"Of course. That's what friends are for," Noah says as he pulls me into another hug.

"Thank you," I whisper, his comment about being friends bringing tears to my eyes once again, but, this time, I allow them to fall quietly.

While letting me hold tightly to him still, he moves us so that we are laying down once again, similar to the way we were before. This time, instead of me on my back, holding Noah close to my side as he rests his head on the inside of my shoulder, our roles have reversed.

"I'm so glad that you are here," I whisper sleepily once I stop crying, feeling absolutely exhausted as I wish that tomorrow was already over so I can spend my first weekend with Noah.

"Me too," he whispers, causing me to smile, so glad that he is happy to be with me too.

"Good night, Noah," I whisper with a yawn, knowing that I won't be awake for much longer.

"Sleep well," he whispers back, causing my sleepy smile to widen.

With that smile still on my lips, I drift off to sleep, my last thought being how lucky I am to have Noah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish that I could say that I am back now with regular updates, but I can't. Not only has school been super hectic, but I also have gotten sick so many times these past few months that, by the time I finish the mountains of homework I am given, I have nothing left to put toward writing this story. Luckily, I was able to finish the next few chapters during spring break, but, once I run out of those chapters (which I will let you know in the endnotes of that chapter) I might have to wait until summer to be able to update again. Once again, I am sorry for the long break and the irregular updates, but it (hopefully) will get better soon! With that being said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I (possibly) will see you next week in chapter 8! Bye :D


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